


Red wine makes his clothes fall off

by TheMissingMask



Series: Explorations [5]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble Collection, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, flint watches, red wine, silver loses clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMissingMask/pseuds/TheMissingMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew enjoy some red wine taken from a prize.  Flint enjoys the view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red wine makes his clothes fall off

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song 'Tequila makes her clothes fall off' by Joe Nichols. It seemed to fit Silver quite well! :)

Ever since they had met, Flint had never ceased to be amazed by John Silver. Every new piece of the man he came to know was as astounding as the first. There truly seemed to be no end to the unexpected revelations his cook-come-quartermaster-come-partner could bestow upon him. And so he perhaps should not have been surprised by this latest turn of events.

This was, Flint noted, perhaps among the most interesting of revelations thus far:

Red wine makes John Silver’s clothes fall off.

Ok, so they were not literally falling off. But given the rate at which the man was shedding his garments, they may as well have been. Within the past hour, and only half a bottle of the beverage, Silver had lost his coat, shoe, sock and belt, and was now in the process of stripping off his shirt. Not that Flint minded. Not in the slightest.

Although it would have been substantially more enjoyable had they not been in the company of the entire combined crews of the Walrus and the Queen Anne’s Revenge.

The two crews were seated around three large fires on the beach of an island two days removed from the Maroon camp. They had just taken a prize sought out for her guns and the ammunition she was ferrying from Spain to Carolina.

It just so happened that her cargo also included a very considerable stash of red wine. Red wine that could not be sold by them to any legitimate market until they retook Nassau. And so, unable to sell the alcohol, they had taken a well-earned rest on a nearby island to dispose of it. There was no need to weigh down the ships unnecessarily, after all.

Most of the men were already thoroughly intoxicated. They were laughing, sharing stories, playing various musical instruments in what somehow managed to be a harmonious manner. Or perhaps, Flint thought with an internal shrug, it only seemed that way because he had finished a full bottle of the stuff himself already.

He sat apart from the crews on a log, relishing the warmth that the alcohol spread through his tired body and the way it mingled with the pleasant cool of the evening. Basking in the sound of crackling fires before him and gently gushing waves behind. Enjoying the excellent view of his quartermaster’s well-toned body as it became ever more exposed with every sip from that bottle in his hand. A bottle whose smooth neck was currently being stroked under his thumb as he talked to some of the men.

Flint’s breath quickened as the bottle was brought to Silver’s mouth. It hitched as the man ran his tongue over the tip of it, licking away some that must have spilled over the edge. It caught fully in his throat as Silver wrapped his lips around the end to take a long, drawn-out swig.

Silver’s hair tie was on the floor next. Flint’s attention returned to his surroundings as the dark ribbon hit the sand. He looked around and noted the infuriatingly large number of other men present who were quite clearly watching his quartermaster with undisguised hunger in their eyes. He was suddenly not enjoying this view quite so much.

He was enjoying even less the way two of Teach’s men were now standing just a little too close to Silver, being just a little too familiar with their touches, leaning just a little too far into his mouth to talk to him above the roar of the fires.

Flint stood abruptly from his seat when one of the men dared to brush a stray curl from Silver’s face. Marching over to where they stood, he roughly grabbed his quartermaster’s wrist.

“We have accounts to go over.” He barked, dragging Silver away from the men.

“Captain?” Silver stumbled as he attempted to keep pace with Flint. “I’m rather certain we do not.”

Flint was walking at a speed he knew Silver would struggle with, but not fast enough to risk him falling or wearing on his leg too greatly. Flint knew the fine line between the two, and he would never stray across it. He would never allow Silver to suffer, not if he had any power to prevent it.

“I’m not as drunk as you think.” Silver mumbled, leaning heavily on Flint as the older man led him into their shared tent.

Flint raised an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Yeah. See?” Silver pushed himself away so he was once again supporting all his own weight, “I can stand on one leg.”

“You only have one leg.” Flint pointed out flatly. He couldn’t help but laugh at the pout it elicited from the other man.

“Well that was just cruel.”

With another soft laugh, Flint led Silver to the bed and forced him to sit down before taking a seat beside him. He allowed his eyes to roam over the well-muscled torso, taking in the sheen of sweat over tanned skin and how it seemed to glow in the dim candlelight.

He finally spoke, serious now.

“You should be more careful. Those men…” Flint was cut off as Silver fell into him, smirking. He was hot against Flint’s side.

“They weren’t going to do anything, James.”

“It certainly looked as though they might.”

“They weren’t. You can tell. When someone’s gonna do that. They get ‘the look’. In their eyes, you know?”

No, Flint did not know, but it made his blood run cold that Silver did. The possible implications of Silver’s familiarity with ‘the look’, as he called it, weighed uneasily in his mind. Before Flint could dwell further on the matter, his quartermaster was speaking again, his voice now low and silky.

“Every man out there knows exactly who I belong to, Captain.” He emphasised the title, eyes becoming half-lidded as he leaned further into Flint.

Soon his unease was being driven away by the hot air of Silver whispering nonsensical expletives into his ear. The warm saliva on his neck as Silver ran his tongue along his throat. The calloused hands over his body…

Suddenly it dawned on Flint that he too had become largely devoid of clothing. Evidently Silver’s red wine-induced affliction was contagious.


End file.
